Once a burglar, always a burglar
by Earane Telrunya
Summary: When Bilbo hits his head just a little too hard during a barrel ride gone awry and wakes up not knowing who he is or why on Middle earth he is with a Company of thirteen Dwarves on a quest to save a lost kingdom from a dragon, is there any way of fixing him? Or will the Company never be with their dear burglar again? NO SLASH, maybe some hinted Kiliel- KiliXTauriel


**Well, this is my first ever published story and I'll apologize right now for all of the grammatical errors, now and in any future chapters. I'm only apologizing once :) I sincerely hope that this goes over well and I hope this gets a good response!  
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**I do not own The Hobbit in any way, shape or form XD  
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Being quiet was something quite difficult to achieve at times, or so Bilbo found out. Hobbits were small, gentle creatures, that were not too fond of drawing attention to themselves from the outside world- or certain relatives in their little world- and so to avoid such things, they themselves each had a knack for being their own little brand of hermit. Of course they would interact amongst each other- or at least, most of them would- their children playing in the surrounding forests of the Shire and they had annual gatherings and celebrations that everyone who happened to be anyone turned out to be invited to and they in turn invited anyone who was someone to them, which, in turn, happened to be the rest of everyone and the whole Shire ended up invited one way or another. Despite that, each and every Hobbit had a very special talent for disappearing and staying hidden from anyone they did not want to find them. It was something that had been bred into their race instead of a talent for fighting or a thirst for war and bloodshed. They had been taught to, in a way, _fear_ the other inhabitants of Middle earth, be they elf or orc, and in this way they kept themselves safe. Sometimes it was better to be lost amongst friends than it was to be seen amongst enemies, and in this case, Bilbo was finding it harder and harder to tell the two apart.

The young Hobbit tiptoed around a corner in the vast and winding halls of Mirkwood, the pale and glorious walls stretched high above his little frame and an almost hollow feeling at the monotony of the palace decor and the cold lights filled Bilbo as he once again made his way to his Company's cells deep withing the Forest Kingdom's walls.

Almost four weeks they had been here, trapped by The Elven King of Mirkwood when old wounds had been reopened in both Thranduil and Thorin, the 'Kingdomless King Under the Mountain'.

Bilbo had found them both to be acting like children when it really came down to it, but that was something he would rather keep to himself than share aloud around any of the Dwarves. Simply the mention of any rift they had with their _former _allies or how Thorin had handled the first and only meeting they had had with the ruler of the Eldarian race with all the finesse of a falling brick house would send the mountain dwellers into a cursing fit in Khuzdul and Westron, at times making Bilbo stick his fingers into his tiny pointed ears to avoid anymore tainting of what little decency he had somehow managed to keep hold of up until now.

And Thorin still held his grudge, though fading as Bilbo knew it was. Being held apart from each other, the Dwarrow had become anxious and restless in their solitude. Bilbo had done all he could to keep them in good cheer and to hold their hopes above toiling waters but no matter what he did time still held the most change in the world and his companions eventually lost all hope of ever leaving the dungeons. They did not speak much with him anymore as he made his way from cell to cell to deliver the daily messages from brother to cousin to uncle and back again, nor did any but Bofur find reason to hold conversation for any reason other than to notify of a change in guard or routine. And Bifur, but that never went very far.

And no news of an escape ever came, for Bilbo found it to be nigh impossible to free them without getting caught. And as the days had gone by and his own hope had begun to fail him, the ever present blur of the world passing by in a darker shadow than it should ever be in had him physically and mentally weary.

He had never gone this long without removing his ring. He could count on one hand how many times he had done so since following the band of elves through the front door and still have fingers left over. It bothered him with increasing greatness that this world was becoming more familiar than his own. The last time he had removed the Ring had been eight agonizingly long days ago and Bilbo did not know if it was his imagination, but maybe there were more people in this realm than just him. Shadows walked behind him and crept in corners but every time he turned to look they would be gone, having either disappeared or never been there in the first place.

He longed to be rid of the golden band, to cast it away as his comfort towards it grew but he could not. Not yet. But soon, for as he turned down another hall, nearly brushing a guard in the arm in his haste, he knew that he would be able to remove it from his hand soon enough. A plan, at long last!, a plan had formed in his mind on his fifth trip to the cellar in the month they had been captive. The Key-Keeper was apt to leave his lunch plate unattended and it would usually to be the only food that Bilbo saw in a day, his stomach having sadly grown used to being empty. And as his clothes grew bigger upon his already scrawny frame- for Hobbits found food a great comfort to partake in and ate seven meals a day to match their extremely fast metabolisms, not including snacks- he found himself growing weary with it, and it certainly did not help that he only slept every other night, it being so hard to find a place that was not always traveled and would stay unoccupied for at least a few hours where he would not be caught up underfoot.

He did not think that he had had a good nights rest since before this entire journey started and certainly even less so since their arrival in Mirkwood, but he did not intend to show any weakness in front of Thorin. He was not useless or defenseless and he could take care of himself and the others should the need arise. And he would prove himself now, as he turned a final corner and approached their leader's cell, pulling a large ring bouncing with keys from the side pocket on his beloved red jacket which, by now, might possibly fit two of him.

"Thorin!"

The Dwarf King jumped nearly a foot in the air from where he was seated against the far wall in his cell as Bilbo all but slammed into the iron bars between them, unconcerned for the ruckus he was making.

Thorin scrambled to his feet, tossing aside whatever he had been doing to the floor as alarm lit up his face and his eyes searched the area outside his cell for his burglar and the source of his 'panic'.

"Bilbo? What has happened? Are you alright?"

Bilbo was trying every key in the lock on the door and his unsteady hands shook much more than they should have, increasing the noise he was making, if at all possible. The Hobbit growled in frustration and paused, taking a deep breath and pulling the Ring off of his finger as the shadow blurred his mind and he could hardly focus on the task in front of him.

Thorin's eyes landed on him as he came into sight but Bilbo immediately turned back to his previous task.

"I have found a way out, Thorin. We must go find the others and then we will be on our way out of this deathtrap."

Thorin Oakenshield frowned down at his burglar. He looked different than the last he had seen him, though that had been quite some time ago. He was pale and thin and shadows marred his face in a way he was certain they never should, planting a seed of doubt in the Dwarf King.

"Bilbo...?"

The Hobbit paused, a single untried key poised in the lock, waiting to be turned and either discarded like the others or marveled in triumph, but the use of his real name, not 'Burglar' or 'Master Baggins', especially coming from Thorin, caught his attention.

Large green eyes that once held so much light and laughter seemed flat and dull, their vibrant colors having long since faded from them. His bouncing mop of honey-blonde curls had lost its sheen and now appeared as scraggly and lifeless as the rest of him. Had wandering around Mirkwood free of a cell granted him no rest? Did it prove to be more of a prison than what the Dwarrow had been put into?

"Burglar," Thorin started again after a moments pause and the young Hobbit was at least looking at him. "You look near death. How have you-?"

But Bilbo cut him off with a huff, loud enough to make Thorin cringe.

"Thorin, we do not have time for such trivial matters! Our time is limited and we must go!" He then turned the key and the hollow sound of the tumblers clicking into place sent a jolt of adrenaline through the Dwarf and, as Bilbo had hoped, distracted him for at least the time being.

As he stepped from his prison Thorin clasped the small Hobbit on either shoulder and Bilbo's knees shook for a terrible moment and he thought that he might collapse under the sudden pressure upon him. But then the weight was gone and the rushing pound in his ears eased enough so that he could hear what the king was saying to him.

Bilbo made a 'shushing' motion and waved for him to follow as he headed back down the hallway and, taking a different turn this time, ventured deeper into the maze of dungeons that anyone but the Elves and himself would surely be lost in.

He had planned all of this before, mapping it out in his head for the lack of parchment and quill and preparing for the past two days. The Feast of Starlight, is what they called it. A celebration of the Elves that served as nothing more to Bilbo than a very decent distraction where they would all be getting drunk and that he would have found no complaints about had it come a little earlier in the season.

As for right now, his plan was right on track and he hardly cast a backward glance at Thorin as he silently made his way through the winding stone halls with practiced ease, the king following behind with much less grace or silence and the slightly larger creature was beginning to have trouble keeping up with the nimble one ahead.

Before Thorin could fall too far behind Bilbo stopped at another barred door and began the process of finding which key would unlock it again. Thorin heard the familiar and long missed voice of Balin and when the door finally swung open they clasped forearms and greeted each other with great enthusiasm, or what would be considered great enthusiasm for the two old friends.

And it was like this that the little Hobbit led the slowly increasing number of Dwarrow up and down and around the labyrinth, next collecting Bofur then Bombur, Oin and Ori, then Dwalin. Fili was next and the young lad shared a rough but tender embrace with his uncle and Bilbo would have sworn that a tear or two was shed but no one would ever mention it. From there they went on to Nori and Dori, who were rather close to each other and they both fell on Ori, immediately questioning his treatment by the Elves and how skinny and sickly he had become when in all reality the entire Company had been fed and rested better here than they had been the long few months they had been on the road and none of them had found tightening of their belts to be required. Save one.

After that, the noise upon which the group behind him seemed to insist on making flustered their dear burglar and he soon found himself very turned around and they had to backtrack, nearly running into several guards that were wandering around, albeit on the drunken side. He decided to take a chance and left his Dwarves in as safe a crevice as he could find, scurrying along until he found himself in a familiar place and got turned right ways round. Passing Gloin's cell on his way back to the Dwarves he released the red haired warrior and bid him follow. Upon arriving back, Bilbo then took a moment to tell them all to 'Shut their bloody Dwarf-holes or so help him!' before continuing on.

Young Kili was the next to be found, simply tossing a green stone of some kind into the air before Bilbo made himself known and the lad sprung to his feet, eyes eager and wild for freedom. His reunion with Fili was something that brought tears to the Hobbit's eyes and he did not ever want to imagine what would happen to one of them if they ever be parted more permanently, Mahal forbid.

"Mister Boggins, you are the most brilliant creature to have ever lived on Middle earth!" Kili exclaimed, his face crinkling in a smile every single one of them had missed and Bilbo took a moment to blush and fluster to himself a moment.

"Now, now, Kili, if I were it surely would not have taken nearly this long for myself to figure something as simple as this turned out to be. I berate myself at how I have managed to take so simple a task and make it a thousand times harder than it had any right to be. And because I have, you all have been stuck here, wasting away in the dungeons and I might have cost you Durin's Day as a result. So, no, my lad, I do not believe that I am."

Bilbo had begun to walk away by that time and so he did not notice the odd looks that were exchanged amongst the Company, concern and worry for their burglar obvious on their faces. They continued to follow him to the final cell they would encounter before their departure and a few of them even tried speaking with him but Bilbo would have none of that. He made sure they stayed quiet, though a herd of Dwarves in nothing but their trousers and undershirts still somehow managed to sound like they were wearing full battle armor, minor accessories and all, as they bumped into each other and grumbled the entire way.

Bifur's cell was further away than any of the other's had been and Bilbo had a slight suspicion as to why, though he never planned on mentioning it and he hoped that none of them came to the same conclusion he had. Bifur was different than the other Dwarves, very different indeed. He could only speak Khuzdul and _Iglishmek_, the dwarf version of sign-language, and while he was by no means any more violent or crude than the rest of the Company, he did come across as being quite wild even to Bilbo who was, by now, very used to all things rudimentary and Dwarvish. Be that as it may, Bilbo was sure that Bifur had not taken any form of 'civility' into consideration when it came to handling the elves and he was even more sure that the fair-haired creatures hadn't taken his 'manners' too lightly. Bilbo had seen them simply throwing his food at him and calling him vulgar things that the Hobbit dared not repeat, simply because they had thought that he could not understand them be it Westron or their own Elvish tongue that they chose to speak. Bifur's disability had never been his fault and though they had never been the closest of friends Bilbo still felt it wound one of the thirteen pieces of his stout yet tender heart to see him be treated as an animal.

Upon approaching his cell, Bilbo could see the gruff dwarf sitting in his usual corner where he was as far out of sight as he could be in hopes that any of the passing elves would, for once, leave him be.

"Bifur." Bilbo intoned softly, whispering so he would avoid startling the Dwarf.

Bifur was on his feet in an instant and at the bars before Bilbo even registered that he had moved in the first place. The Hobbit started slightly before signing in the sparse Iglishmek that he knew, his flow and form leaving much to be desired. He had spent many a dreary afternoon with the Dwarf and Bifur had managed to teach him at least enough of the hand-language that he could send a few messages to the other Dwarves, as touchily pieced together as they might have been. Bilbo told him that they were escaping and when his eyes landed on the group the dwarf immediately went into a long, harsh, and what Bilbo suspected was very colorfully detailed, tirade that he continued even when he was out of his cell and with the others.

Bilbo sighed and turned to look at the thirteen Dwarrow squeezing into the hallway behind him. They were finally free. No, not yet, he had to remind himself. This was only the first step in getting them out of here. Now he must take them to the cellars and they would be one step closer to being rid of this place forever. Bilbo could hardly wait.

But, wait, he must. As did the others for just as they were about to exit the dungeons an elf twisted her way around the corner making them all freeze as she passed not five feet from where they were standing. How she did not see them he did not know, but Bilbo held in his sigh of relief a little longer, having learned that keen elf ears picked up on the smallest of sounds even from the smallest of creatures. And having learned to be ever more aware himself, he did not miss the low intake of breath from Kili behind him at the appearance of the red-haired elf maiden. Normally he would have put stock that there was something else entirely going on here that he should have picked up on, but the only thing he felt concern for at this moment was that the she-elf had turned another corner and was heading down to the lower level of cells, right where the Dwarves had been not ten minutes ago.

"Move!" He whispered as loudly as he dared and they were off down the hall. Bilbo found no point in being quiet anymore for when the elf found their cells empty the alarm would be raised no matter what they did. But nor did that mean he held no concern for the racket they were creating and he ushered them forward with a finger to his lips, in hopes that they would move as quietly as possible as fast as they could.

Upon arrival to the cellar, Bilbo supposed he could not have asked for better. Kili had only tripped over his own feet twice, putting at least a little less shame on Thorin who had somehow managed to fling himself headlong with no warning, as if he had run straight into a log, into Dwalin who then knocked into Ori who stumbled into Bombur, who they then had to chase as he rolled uncontrollably down a completely different hall.

If the Dwarves of the Line of Durin weren't the clumsiest of them all then Bilbo was, by no means, a Hobbit.

It could have been worse and Bilbo was grateful that it hadn't been. He motioned for the Dwarves to wait and he completely ignored the indignant huff from Thorin as the king bristled at the dismissive gesture and he quickly made his way down the beautiful wooden steps that led to thir escape.

After checking that the coast was clear and they were entirely alone he called up to the Company and they all traipsed into the room with walls of stone and a distinct smell of alcohol on the air.

"Oh, well done, _master _burglar." Nori snapped, yet their was no anger in his voice, merely irritation. "Trapped us in the cellars now, have you? How do you expect us to get out'a here, hmm?"

Bilbo huffed in irritation himself. Why did he always have to be questioned amongst them? Did they not trust him to know what he was doing?

_No. _He supposed. _They do not..._

And in a way, they had every right to, or so Bilbo believed. If he had been the prisoner of his worst enemy for nearly a month and the only way out was someone that had been simply wandering around for that entire length of time, he too would be skeptical of that person. When several of the others grunted in agreement with Nori's accusation Bilbo's face fell but he tried to pick up his courage once more, like he had every day since this journey began.

"We do not have nearly enough time for argument!" The Hobbit was beginning to fluster and everything was tilted at an odd angle. He hadn't had reason to run around like that for quite a while, definitely not nearly that much all at one time and now he was beginning to feel quite nauseas and lightheaded. Something must have shown on his face for a hand was placed on his shoulder, though it felt more like an anvil at the moment, and he looked up at Bofur who was glaring at the others from under his hat.

"Now see here, Bilbo has done right by us and we should be glad he didn't just leave us to rot like the ungrateful lot we clearly are!"

Normally Bilbo would have smiled at Bofur and brushed it all off as nothing but he could hardly find the energy to stand anymore.

"Bofur..." He mumbled, as good a protest as he was getting from himself at the moment. Before anyone else could speak he brushed the hand from his shoulder and wiggled around Bofur, heading to the back of the room.

"Now I need you all to listen," he cleared his throat as his voice turned raspy and gestured to thirteen empty barrels as he coughed into his other hand.

Bilbo cleared his throat once more, swearing to himself that he would have a cold once this all was over, and lightly kicked the side of a barrel to signal its hollowness.

"Each of you need to find a barrel and get snug inside and the sooner you do the sooner we will be out of here."

This request brought on a much louder round of grumbling and protests and even Bofur seemed a little skeptical of his plan. After arguing for what felt like forever and Bilbo had a throbbing headache to now deal with, Thorin decided enough was enough.

"Silence!" His bellow quashed the din like water dousing a fire and the hiss of it echoed behind Bilbo's eyes like a game of pong.

"Now do as the burglar says; into the barrels with you."

Like they were being led by their own set of reigns, the still somewhat grumbling group of Dwarves each found their way into a barrel with little or no protest, much to Bilbo's relief.

"Now," he said and they all looked to him as he walked to a wooden lever that stuck from the floor, some wide-eyed and other's realizing that they were in a barrel for a specific reason, _what, _exactly they would soon be finding out.

Bilbo glanced them all over and wished with all of his stout Hobbit heart that this would work the way he hoped.

"Hold your breath." And with that, he turned and pulled the lever.


End file.
